Charity
by errandofmercy
Summary: Severus does something nice, in spite of himself.


It was only half past five in the morning, but already the first powder-blue inkling of dawn was beginning to rise outside the leaded windows of Number Twelve Grimmuald Place. Sprawled atop a lone bedsheet draped over an ancient sofa, Remus Lupin watched the light creep in with quiet resignation. A stub of candle burned redundantly at the low table before him, while a copy of the Daily Prophet which appeared to have been slept on lay half-crumpled in his lap. He scratched the side of his foot absently on the edge of a large metal basin that had been laid beside him on the floor, just in case. Kreacher had probably brought it more out of concern for the state of the carpet than as a gesture of goodwill. Lupin sighed and rubbed his weltering stomach through the thin fabric of his threadbare nightshirt.

To his surprise, he suddenly heard a shifting of the floor above him, followed by footsteps descending the creaking staircase. It was Snape, ostensibly still dressed in last night's robes, looking like he really needed his morning coffee. His black eyes were pinched to slivers.

In the last weeks, the Potions Master's comings and goings through the Black family home had been quite frequent. Lupin assumed he was staying close to London on business for the Order, but he had not bothered to ask and Snape had been less than forthcoming. It appeared that he had spent the night (or whatever remained of it) in one of the guest rooms in the upper story, but Remus had no recollection of seeing him enter or leave. It was an oddity, but not a particularly disturbing one, since he had been... indisposed for the better part of the evening.

Lupin swapped his forlorn expression for one of subtle cheer. "Hello, Severus," he said quietly. Snape acknowledged him with a curt nod. "Sorry I'm not quite decent," he continued, glancing down at his tattered pajamas. "I didn't think anyone else was home."

"Doesn't bother me," Snape said dully, passing him with a queer look. "You look rather peaked."

Lupin gave a tired smile. "Full moon's tonight," he said.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him. "Haven't you been taking the potion?"

Lupin shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said good-naturedly.

"But why not?" Snape demanded, sounding affronted. "I taught you how to brew it myself!"

"And that was very kind of you, Severus," Lupin replied. "Unfortunately, some of the ingredients are rather to find, which makes them... prohibitively expensive. I did use the potion for a while, but after a time I discovered that I simply can't afford it." He shifted his stiff legs so that he was sitting cross-legged, facing the daybreak through the hall's antique windows. "No matter, though," he finished. "I'll be all right here."

Snape, who had probably lived in the castle for so long he had forgotten the specter of poverty, was both surprised and incensed. Lupin would have been quite amused by his sudden desire to discuss the issue, had he been feeling a bit better. Presently, however, all he wanted to do was stay close to the loo and try not to think about the coming evening.

"Isn't there a grant of some sort?" he blurted. Remus could see the wheels turning in his head. He smiled and shook his head.

"Good thinking, but being neither a Ministry employee nor a father, I don't qualify. Really, though, Severus, it's all right. I appreciate what you did for me, but I never expected a lifetime supply." He gave a polite little laugh, ignoring the nausea that was mounting in his stomach once again.

"Pity," Snape said, and for once it looked like he meant it. His mouth was working unconsciously as he continued, still puzzling, into the kitchen to brew some coffee. Lupin skimmed the front page of the Prophet, perplexed but strangely flattered by Snape's sudden interest in his plight. A moment later the smell of hazlenut coffee wafted into the sitting room, enveloping his senses like a warm, crisp blanket. He smiled.

"Lupin," Snape called, his nasal voice falling flat in the poor acoustics of the old house.

"Yes?"

Snape stuck his head round the corner and took a sip from Regulus' old Slytherin mug. He looked thoughtful. "As you know, my position at Hogwarts gives me... unique access to a great deal of rare ingredients." He paused and took another swig, avoiding eye contact. "I'll see if I can't... work something out."

Lupin looked up in surprise. The other wizard's sallow face was impassive, but he knew that he was making an effort to appear crusty and unflappable. "That's quite generous of you, Severus, but really - I don't want to cause any trouble."

"I should hope not," Snape responded. "And I suspect you'll cause a great deal less trouble if you're... in good health."

Lupin folded up the paper as best he could and put it away. "You would really do that for me?" he asked. While he certainly wasn't too proud to turn down a bit of charity, it seemed too good to be true. He wondered what Snape, in true Slytherin fashion, would expect from him in return.

Snape frowned, ignoring the rhetorical question. "Since it can't be sent through the post... shall I have the house elves deliver it to Kreacher?"

Lupin was stunned - he felt a hopeful clearing in the gloomy landscape of his moonsick mind. "Yes, that would be wonderful. Severus-"

"Don't mention it," Snape said stiffly. "Really, don't. I have a reputation to uphold." He swept back into the kitchen without any further discussion.

After a few minutes of contented daydreaming, Lupin rose from his perch hoping for a spot of coffee for himself. He poured himself a tall order while the other wizard washed out his mug and began fiddling with his traveling robes. Remus flinched at the first taste, his mouth seeming to shrivel and shrink from the sheer bitterness of it. Strong and shockingly dark, he thought with a smirk. It was going to need quite a bit of sugar...

Despite his perennial illness and bleak prospects as a member of Wizarding society, Lupin was an eternal optimist. Even though it might be months before the benefits of this windfall were to reach him, he still felt supremely bolstered by the prospect of medication. It would make the difference between living as an invalid and being able to serve the cause he held most dear. And, though Sirius and the others would caution him not to count his chickens, he truly believed that the other wizard would keep his word.

"Snape," he said after he had successfully swallowed the corrosive beverage, "I just want to say, thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."

Snape did up the last of the thirty-odd buttons of his frock, avoiding Lupin's eyes. "It's no bother," he said, his face darkening a bit. Lupin wondered where he was headed. To the castle, or off to consort with the Death Eaters? Perhaps he was going home to the tiny, dilapidated rowhouse that Lily had once described. In any case, he suspected what lay ahead for him would rival Lupin's own sickness in its unpleasantness. He felt a pang of sympathy for this strange, uncomfortable man, for whom even kindness had to be kept secret.

"You're a good man," he said suddenly, surprising them both.

Severus' face turned to stone. "No," he said. "I'm not." He turned toward the door and, in a flurry of black robes, was gone.


End file.
